


The Boy who Dance

by BananaDreamer



Series: The Day they Died [1]
Category: Angel Beats!
Genre: Bob Dylan is my cam, Flashbacks, Gen, I'm Sorry, I'm crying on my computer writing this shit, I'm sure I will go to Hell, Major character death - Freeform, Sadness everywhere, this boy deserves love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 07:50:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16551869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaDreamer/pseuds/BananaDreamer
Summary: TK's past and the course of the last day of his too short life ...





	The Boy who Dance

### POV T.K

##### "The tenderness can only be measured by the extent of the sacrifice it can inspire."

 

 

_"How many times must a man look up, before he can see the sky ? Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have, before he can hear people cry ? Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows, that too many people have died ? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the Wind. The answer is blowin' in the wind." ♫_

It was half an hour since Bob Dylan's voice sounded in T.K's headphones.  
The young man had isolated himself in a corner of the gymnasium, performing a few steps of dance to the rhythm of the sounds, of his desires, of his mood ... He didn't really know for how long he was stuck in what some people called "The Afterlife". The memories he had of the day of his death were still present. However, even with a good focus, he could not remember the face of the only person he had ever loved : his mother. The music gradually faded and a new song replaced it immediately.

 

**[FLASHBACK]**

_\- Your results are still catastrophic. You will have to get to work if you don't want to be excluded in the next trimester ! In addition, it is a parent-teacher appointment, Mr. Kingstone. It makes no sense if you come alone._

The young man shrugged his shoulders, rose without a word and left the classroom. He travelled the austere corridors of a fast step. He hightly hated this establishment. If he continued to attend, it was only to ensure himself a semblance of future. Besides, he didn't really do it for him, but for his mother. Sarah Kingstone became pregnant as a result of a rape. Having grown up in a foster home and deaf-mute since birth, she could not count on anyone's help. Yet she had found the courage to raise her child alone. If Thomas Kenneth Kingstone never spoke, it was neither out of contempt nor timidity. He just lacked vocabulary to express himself. He was fluent in sign language, but the only verbal words he knew were from his favorite songs. This had promptly led him to social isolation and school persecution. Nevertheless, he had no grudge against the one who had given him birth. In fact, it was the opposite. He admired her for the kindness and the bravery she had shown her whole life. Now he had to do was to make her proud; so that she would not regret anything.

Thomas passed the entrance gate, crossed a few lanes and eventually arrived in front of a small apartment in the slums. He turned the key in the lock and penetrated into the living room. This one, poorly decorated, seemed yet filled with warmth. In the centre of the room, in an old patched armchair, Sarah was reading an heavy book, her long blond hair framing her soft and serene face. The young man went to his side and laid his hand gently on her shoulder. She looked up at him, put his book on his knees and began to communicate by gestures. His interlocutor replied in the same way, and thus passed the evening.

The next day, on his way home, Thomas got caught by a small group of students who apparently had decided to brutalize him. His backpack was stolen and he got hit several times, although he replied fiercely. Finally, his assailants got bored and went. One could say that the rest of the day could not be worse ... He couldn't be more wrong. After dragging two hours into the park, the teenager decided to go home. When he reached his street, he felt an abyss open under his feet. The firefighters were there, as were the police forces and medical services. Everywhere in the neighborhood, people were screaming or crying.

The fire, which was ravaging his building, had just put several dozen families on the street. He began to panic, his mother ... where was she ? Then, the horrible truth struck him right in the guts. Her handicap ... she had probably realized too late what was happening. Thomas ran towards the building; but he was stopped by two policemen. He struggled so hard that one of them tried to handcuff him but could only reach one hand. The young man, by dint of blows, managed to escape. He penetrated into the burning hall. A garment in front of the mouth, he rushed to the first floor, then to the second. His head was turning and his chest was squeezing. Suddenly, he saw her. She was lying before him, trembling, almost unconscious. He took her on his back and began to turn away. However, the floor collapsed under their weight and both fell several metres. Thomas felt one of his legs break with the shock and he uttered a scream. Then he crawled up to his mother. The latter seemed to be unable to move. She stared at him, her eyes filled with tears. The teenager could now feel the flames licking his legs and a throbbing pain scouring his whole body. He was crying. Not because of the pain, nor for fear of death ... he was crying because he could not save her. And the last thing he saw in his long and painful agony was that blue gaze, full of love and pride.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- I am french, so do not be surprised if my english seems approximate.   
> \- So, do not hesitate to let me know if you see any mistake. I will not be angry ;)  
> \- Oh and comments are appreciated. I'm a talkative person ~


End file.
